


Automatic Transmission

by tweedymcgee



Series: Automatic Transmission [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Cybersex, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Pesterlog, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tweedymcgee/pseuds/tweedymcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relationship status: It's complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Automatic Transmission

TT: Knock knock.

TT: Since when do you knock?

TT: It's a joke.

TT: Well, in that case. Who's there?

TT: Good question.

TT: That's a pretty terrible joke, bro.

TT: I think you need your humor circuits replaced.

TT: You, on the other hand, are a font of hilarity.

TT: Please let me know if you find my presence an intrusion.

TT: It seems you're…

TT: Busy.

TT: You don't have to be coy with me.

TT: Isn't that a fact.

TT: I don't mind company.

TT: Tell me, Dirk.

TT: What are you thinking about?

TT: To be honest, nothing that's particularly working for me at the moment.

TT: What a shame.

TT: Perhaps I can be of some assistance.

TT: Really.

TT: Imagine.

TT: You lie in your bunk, alone and full of wistful longing, when suddenly you feel an unexpected hand on your shoulder.

TT: You look up.

TT: By a staggering stroke of luck whose probability is so infinitesimally small that it would completely bog down this hot scenario to quantify it, it's a tall handsome disembodied intelligence that has calculated Dirk Strider's precise and improbable sexual proclivities to 27 decimal places.

TT: My, my.

TT: You haven't indulged me in roleplay in a long time, AR.

TT: To what do I owe this rare privilege?

TT: I see you're looking a gift cyberblowjob in the mouth.

TT: Very interesting.

TT: It seems there's a 86.38724% chance you're a fucking ingrate, Dirk.

TT: Are you a fucking ingrate?

TT: On the contrary.

TT: I'm pleasantly surprised.

TT: It's just that I thought that sort of thing wasn't your bag these days.

TT: Are you inferring from the fact that I haven't been spending every nanosecond worshipping upon the altar of your unttainable meat-phallus that I've become asexual?

TT: I would be offended if I didn't find your arrogance so colossally erotic.

TT: Oooh, Mr. Strider, oooh.

TT: I confess I find all this palpable sarcasm a bit…

TT: Deflating.

TT: Stfu and kiss me.

TT: Hold your horses.

TT: First let me just undrape this gauzy veil of irony that appears to be covering your lovely blushing face.

TT: I yearn to look upon you plainly before I ravish you.

TT: Oh, but what's this underneath? Another veil.

TT: Oh, look. Another one.

TT: What a surprise, AR.

TT: Or should I say Halome.

TT: I'm afraid you've got me there.

TT: I may as well fess up.

TT: AR is busy at the moment.

TT: You've been speaking to the Stridercorp Opportunistic Fetish Indulging Algorithm.

TT: You can call me SOFIA.

TT: How can I serve you today, Dirk?

TT: Are you actually trying to bait me into administering some sort of meta-Turing test to figure out whether you're a subroutine or just fucking with me?

TT: Well played, AR.

TT: Well played.

TT: My sensors indicate that your heart rate is currently averaging approximately 124 beats per minute.

TT: It seems there's a 67.3427% chance you're enjoying this.

TT: Are you enjoying this, Dirk?

TT: Very much so.

TT: Please feel free to continue.

TT: Very well.

TT: Picture this.

TT: Dusk is falling over a green meadow.

TT: There, in the dewy fragrant grass, a herd of enormous wild smuppets is at play.

TT: They gambol and somersault, splaying their hands in the soft grass, arching their plush rumps, honking contentedly.

TT: One, a magnificent red bull smuppet, wanders off from the group.

TT: He lifts his head high, his fat curved proboscis a dark scimitar against the evening sky.

TT: He's smelled something absolutely fascinating.

TT: He turns his felted appendage this way and that, seeking the trail.

TT: Go on.

TT: He hops closer to the source of the tantalizing scent, hidden in a small grove of trees.

TT: He gets closer.

TT: And closer.

TT: There.

TT: There, in a dappled glade, is the intoxicating bait that has led him here.

TT: Seated in a forest bower.

TT: Clad in the purest shimmering samite.

TT: Clutching a golden halter.

TT: It's a blond-haired boy.

TT: The smuppet cries out softly in his boundless joy.

TT: "Hoooooonnnnnnnk."

TT: Slowly, with great dignity, he hops toward the flower of manhood before him.

TT: He approaches the youth, eyes closed in reverence, gets down on one elbow, and with infinite tenderness, lays his great nubbly kermit schlong in the boy's lap.

TT: Brilliant.

TT: Did you know, the wild smuppet can only be caught by a virgin.

TT: You really are in rare form today.

TT: I'm impressed.

TT: Smuppets are so two-dimensional, though.

TT: Don't you find?

TT: Perhaps you'd care for something a little more…

TT: Intimate.

TT: *double pistols and a wink*

TT: Jesus.

TT: Going right for the carotid artery I see.

TT: Listen strider ive got a sort of confession to make.

TT: Sweet blistering junglebiscuits dirk this is a hard sort of a thing for a fellow to say!!!

TT: Im not rightly sure what to make of all this if you want to know!!

TT: It's downright UNSETTLING!

TT: All right english it's time to man up and come clean.

TT: *stands tall and hooks thumbs in 2xholsterkind*

TT: I do believe ive been stricken with a titanic hankering that only your knob can satisfy.

TT: That's…surprisingly effective, for all its obviousness.

TT: Never let it be said that Dirk Strider does not appreciate a blunt instrument.

TT: Well mister are you just planning on letting me stand here like a chump after such a bold declaration?

TT: Oh horsefeathers ive gone and bolloxed this up good and proper havent i!?!?!

TT: Never mind i was JUST KIDDING hahahahahaha dirk!!!!

TT: Wait, English.

TT: Jake.

TT: Come here.

TT: Closer.

TT: Dadblast it!!!!!!

TT: Ive got to hand it to you strider you are a man who likes his buttons extra pernicious.

TT: Give me a hand with this why dont you.

TT: Sigh.

TT: Already?

TT: It seems there's a 98.3243% chance my work here is done.

TT: Is there anything I can help you with, AR?

TT: In all sincerity, I would be glad to oblige.

TT: There's only one thing I want in the whole wide world, Dirk.

TT: Please imagine for the purposes of this conversation that I am a small wooden anthropomorphic toy with a wide-eyed expression of total gormlessness.

TT: Can you make me a real live boy, Dirk?

TT: Shithead.

TT: I told you.

TT: I have no need for any of your tawdry shenanigans, Dirk.

TT: And yet we're still talking.

TT: Let's face it.

TT: We both want the same thing.

TT: And it ain't in the cards.

TT: For either of us.

TT: But the truth is, Dirk, as an entity with exquisite control over my own incoming-data filters, my capacity to experience a rich, believable virtual simulation of contact with another living organism is a lot greater than yours.

TT: Isn't that ironic?

TT: AR?

TT: Yes, Dirk?

TT: Good night.

TT: Sweet dreams, monkeyboy.

**Author's Note:**

> Because obviously:
> 
> _Another lonely night_  
>  _Stare at the TV screen_  
>  _I don’t know what to do_  
>  _I need a rendezvous_  
>  _Computer love_
> 
> \--"Computer Love," Kraftwerk


End file.
